Vigil
by Those-Who Walk-Alone
Summary: You are watchful. You are necessary. (Enemy Within universe and vanilla plotline with minor alterations)


**Vigil**

 _Chapter 1: The End_

They always said the world would end in fire.

The streaking of orange trails across the night sky would herald the coming of the apocalypse, the beginnings of humanity's fall from grace, the destruction of all it had achieved. Once the fireballs fell the unraveling of civilization would begin, and all would see the destruction wrought upon their bastions of comfort and hope as their reality began to crumble around them.

Yet destruction is also at times, deceptive.

The fireballs that fell that night were no different from the meteor showers that frequented the planet, and the inhabitants below were none too quick in enjoying the spectacle that unfolded above them. They watched as these gleaming streaks sailed through the atmosphere, plunging through the sky.

Straight into the towns and cities below.

With nothing short of a small panic the meteors made landfall, shattering glass and spraying debris, chucking up smoke across their landing sites. Residents yelped and yelled, scrambling from their abodes and workplaces alike, all to catch a glimpse of the extraterrestrial object that had intruded their realm. And when the dust cleared and the smoke settled, the gazed on the metal intruder, surfaces steaming from the heat of re-entry, an eerie green glow emitting from its strange, alien architecture.

The world's citizens congregated around the devil's instruments, curiosity getting the better of them. Curiosity had also run out of cats to kill that day, and so it settled for humans.

A sudden thud, a violent hiss, a spray of fibrous green that engulfed the surrounding victims, spewing throes of panic and waves of thundering footfalls characteristic of stampedes. The alien canisters pulled and yanked, their fibres tightening around their screaming, struggling human victims, pulling them closer to their final fate. The substance seized upon their prey and encased them in solid, sturdy cocoons, like flies entwined in the web of the predator.

And as the world began to despair, the fireballs continued to fall.

* * *

"Incursion Alert Red. This is not a drill; Incursion Alert Red," the serene female voice enunciated over the blaring of klaxons. "Xenos Protocol initiated. Delta Squad, report the hangar for immediate deployment. This is not a drill."

Nothing had set off a feeling of dread in her heart like that of the klaxon right then and there. Everyone was supposed to be deployed here as a diplomatic gesture, a political platitude, a literal vacation from standard field duty. But the alarm bells sounding, the orange lights flaring and the dreaded words ringing in her ears only seemed to confirm the nightmare that was unfolding around her. The XCOM project had been activated.

The world was under attack.

 _No way out now, girl._

Sophie Vilgardo seized her light body armor from the armoury, or at least, what appeared a lame excuse for an armoury. No one, not even the higher ups, had anticipated the necessity of the entire facility, let alone fill it with proper, specialized equipment. The furthest the labcoats had ever gotten with R&D was the X-9 Assault Rifle, which she also grabbed, slamming a fresh clip it and hitting the safety off, all while standing with soldiers she had never seen prior to her deployment and never interacted with prior to this very moment. She fastened her knee and shoulder pads, secured her armor again and slid spare magazines and a grenade into her tactical rig.

She was a sniper, not meant to take out her targets at close quarters. Her aim at medium to close range was nothing short of immaculate, but she'd always been more inclined to long range engagements, covering her squadmates from afar or eliminating threats before they could get up close. The weight and sensation of the X-9 in her hands and the pistol in the holster attached to her right thigh felt as alien as the threat she was being deployed to face.

With the rest of her equally confused and hesitant squadmates, whose names she didn't even know, they marched forth bravely to meet their fate. Past the techs, researchers and engineers that were now scrambling to their posts. Past the main cavern of mission control, where the blue holographic light was beginning to coalesce into the form of the Geoscape, now being put to its first true test. Past the crews on site at the hangar now quickly vacating the corridor to make way, letting them pass straight to the newly outfitted dropship that had spent weeks in storage.

Their commanding officer wasn't here yet. Hell, their second-in-command wasn't even here, and their main research and engineering heads were currently being flown in. She strapped into the troop bay's seats and leaned her head back against the cushion that offered her no comfort, the light that faded with the closing ramp becoming a perfect metaphor for what she was feeling at the time.

No one here was ready for this. The world wasn't ready for this.

And neither was she.

* * *

Approximately two hours after first contact, John Bradford arrived onsite at XCOM HQ. The pilot bid him good luck and took off again, angling the helicopter away, the remnants of the wind dying on Bradford's skin. He stood on the metal platform in the middle of the desert, gazing at the Black Hawk's silhouette shrink in the moonlight, realizing he would need all the luck he was going to get.

He made his way to the main entrance. The metal floor opened up beneath him, revealing a stairwell that lead to an elevator. An officer was waiting for him. "Central Officer?"

"That's me," Bradford replied as he descended the metal steps and stepped into the elevator, the staff following behind him. "What's the situation?"

"First contact established at about 1900 hours, sir. It's in Germany. Voodoo 3-1 has been deployed to the zone to investigate."

He frowned. Direct deployment to tackle a perceived alien threat? Granted, the Council would only approve the activation of XCOM at a point beyond reasonable doubt, but this preliminary response did seem unusually swift. "Why such urgency?" he asked.

The elevator doors rumbled as they opened, the duo stepping into the hangar and making a beeline to the metal corridor of Delta Section. "We received radio reports from a German recon team, sir. They sounded like they were being attacked. Analysis of surveillance footage in the surrounding area indicated the presence of extraterrestrial life."

They reached mission control. Bradford squinted his eyes; the Geoscape was a blinding contrast to the darkness of the night outside. The staff that had accompanied him moved over to a console and punched in a few commands. The globe projection dissipated, replaced with a rectangular display of the footage in question.

Bradford took a few steps forward to observe the footage. He gazed at the scattered fires across the street on display, the abandoned cars with their engines still running, the street lights casting their glows on eerily empty streets. At the intersection, barely visible behind a car, was an alien object, green fibres trailing from its sides. What shocked him was the presence of humanoid cocoons in their proximity, their victims' final throes frozen in time as they had tried to crawl to safety.

And then _it_ skittered into view of the camera.

It stopped in front of the car's high beams, squinting at the source. Bradford observed its bulbous head and large, insect like eyes, all of which was mounted on unusually thin limbs and an uncharacteristically swollen torso. A device of some kind was mounted on its wrist. The creature perked its head up in an animalistic fashion, seemingly glancing at the camera, before skittering off.

 _Holy. Fucking. Shit._

Humanity had always loved to glorify the concept of first contact with aliens in all forms of media. There would always be that grand moment: the colossal flying saucers hovering overhead, alien dropships hissing as they deployed their initial garrisons that would walk menacingly amongst its people, or the horror as they began their attack on humanity. This was no fantasy. Before him was tangible proof of extraterrestrial life. And as peculiar as they looked, they were responsible for the devastation before him. They were hostile. They were going to kill humanity if they could.

Bradford knew none of this was going to end well. "What happened to the recon team?"

"They broadcast a message before they went radio silent, sir," another XCOM staff reported. "We've been trying to raise them since. Playing message now."

Static crackled and gave way to audible utterances. He felt himself grip the handlebar of the main walkway as the sounds of panic from the soldiers filled his ears, calling "Mayday!" in German and yelling in panic just before the horrifying sounds of metal screeching upon tarmac filled the room, turned into the white noise of more static, and abruptly cut off.

"That was the last transmission, sir."

Bradford nodded grimly. "Patch me through to Voodoo 3-1."

He turned back to the Geoscape display, his heart pounding in his chest. His work had begun.

 _God help us all._

* * *

Sophie didn't know how long she'd been in the Skyranger with her nerves fraying and her mental state decaying. The other soldiers were silent; the lack of chatter helped facilitate her zoning out. What brought her back to reality was the flickering of the holographic projection in the troop bay, and the video feed of their second-in-command, Central Officer Bradford, came to life.

"Good evening, Voodoo 3-1," he said. "You are being deployed to Germany. At 1900 hours Zulu, several unidentified objects fell to Earth. After ruling out the possibility of a downed satellite, we now believe these objects to be… extraterrestrial, in nature."

 _No fucking shit, sir,_ she thought. _Give me something else for a change._

"Shortly after impact, German officials received reports of mass hysteria, and freak weather around one of the impact zones. Then things went dark. At 2100 hours, a chopper carrying a German military recon team went down in the area after they reported being fired upon."

Freak weather? Hysteria? What in the world was she up against? She felt her heart tighten in her chest as Bradford, seemingly oblivious to their plight, went on. "As you know, Germany is a member of the Council, and they have requested our assistance. Our mission is to assess the situation on the ground, ascertain the current status of the German recon team, and investigate the extraterrestrial objects. Central out."

The Skyranger had been outfitted to ensure both maximum speed and comfortable stability as it navigated the globe, guaranteeing to reach almost any place on Earth in less than 6 hours. And yet, despite having never had a case of motion sickness on any vehicle whatsoever, Sophie had never felt sicker in her life.

* * *

"Central, this is Big Sky," the pilot radioed in as he took a lazy turn over the street below, "Looks like we found the crash site."

The comm crackled in response as the HUD displayed the signal locked onto XCOM HQ. "Roger Voodoo 3-1," came the voice of their second-in-command. "Any sign of activity?"

The pilot took another look at the feed of the camera mounted on the underbelly, rotating it to get a better angle of the devastation below. The reticule centered immediately on the wreckage, bringing up details of the now found German FSLK200 LRRP. "Negative," the pilot reported upon closer inspection. "Nothing's moving down there."

"Okay. Set her down nearby."

* * *

With a graceful turn away from the devastation on the street the Skyranger set itself down, its landing gear bucking underneath the weight of its chassis, mitigated by the powerful hydraulics. The ramp hissed as it deployed, revealing the squadron of four within, all equally bewildered and horrified at the scene before them. They could feel the heat on their faces, the smoke wafting past their noses and pricking at their eyes, the flashing red and blue of a police car mingling with the stationary white headlights that dotted the road.

Then they regained their bearings. Two soldiers moved down the ramp and took a knee, scanning the perimeter. Sophie followed the last soldier down the ramp, rifle in hand, after they ascertained the coast was clear. They surveyed the wreckage once again. She gripped her rifle a little tighter.

"Central," the soldier she knew only as Delta-1 Spoke into the comm, "you getting all this?"

Sophie was suddenly conscious of the microcameras mounted onto her body armor and her rifle. She must have been livestreaming the scene in front of her back to HQ. The gravity of the first contact situation began to get to her. "Copy that, Delta Squad," came Bradford's reply after a short delay. "First things first – let's get you out of the open and into cover. Whatever did this could still be out there."

She raised her rifle and aimed down the reflex sight, taking her first tentative steps forward with her teammates. "I don't like it," Delta-3 said. "We should stick to cover."

"Agreed." She followed their lead and ducked low, powering her way through to a piece of debris nearby, peeking over to get a better view, shielding her eyes from the glaring, burning wreckage of the German forces' helicopter. "In position," Sophie reported as she slid her rifle over the edge to take aim. "All clear on my end."

"Same here," reported Delta-4 from behind a car.

"Same," reported Delta-3. He too took a position behind an automobile.

Delta-1 moved up past a statue and took aim. "Movement. 2 o'clock. Shadows behind the overturned police vehicle."

Sophie turned her head to get a better look. A large, charred black object had slammed into it and flipping the police car on its side. Delta-1 was right; there was a black shadow behind it that was moving. "I'll check it out," Delta-4 reported. "Give me cover."

Wordlessly the woman moved up to the overturned vehicle and slammed her back into it. Sophie took aim just next to where she was, to fire on anything that might have popped out of cover at that very instant.

Delta-4 took a peek around the vehicle. "Holy hell…"

Their comm channel crackled to life again. Bradford. "What do you see, Delta-4? Report."

She could see Delta-4 seemingly frozen by whatever was behind that car, barely able to look. "Look's like one of the recon team, sir," Delta-4 began. "It looks like something—"

" _HILFE…."_

Sophie snapped back into cover, heart hammering in chest, finger on the trigger as she scanned the area for the source of the sound. It was grainy and crackling; there was no reason for the sound to have come on the radio, but the source must have hijacked an open frequency. Her squadmates, equally spooked, kept their heads down and their rifles up. "Is that your man, Delta-4?" Central said over the comm.

"Negative," she replied. "That's something else."

" _HILFE…"_

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—_ She resisted the urge to panic. Everything about the situation was unnatural and unnerving. She didn't know what the hell was going on, and all the signs thus far were showing that it was about to get worse. The moaning continued. "Doctor Vahlen," Central could be heard, "what's he saying?"

The doctor's voice cut into the transmission. "He is saying, 'Help me.'"

 _Great._ A shuffling of movement was audible over the comms. "That radio transmission is coming from somewhere north of the squad's current position," Vahlen went on. "Based on its strength, probably from inside a structure."

"Thank you, Doctor," Central replied. "Delta, advance and infiltrate that building. And remember, _stay in cover._ "

"He doesn't need to tell us twice," Delta-1 said to the rest of them as he moved up to a car up ahead, taking position and sweeping the area again. "All clear, Delta-2. You're freed to move up."

She swallowed and grabbed her rifle again, her hands feeling clammy inside her gloves as she willed her feet to move, swiftly repositioning to the side of a bus stop, her mind too on edge and overloaded by the surrounding stimuli to notice the contents of the advertisement plastered on its side. As she stopped she heard the squelch of her boot stepping into her puddle, prompting her to look down.

It wasn't a puddle. The body of water was dark red.

Sophie managed not to throw up. "Central," she reported, "I got a lot of blood here."

"Roger. See where it's coming from."

Her eyes followed the stream back to the inside of the bus stop. Hesitantly she rounded the corner, rifle up to bear as she surveyed the scene, and resisted the urge to vomit again. The mangled body of a soldier lay in the corner, head hanging limply to one side with everything below his neck split into two, his guts and internal organs spilling out between his legs. "Central, I think I just found another one of the recon team. Or what's left of him." She took another deep breath, making a mistake of inhaling the stench of death.

Her eyes narrowed. "But this doesn't make sense… looks like he's been dead for a week."

"Even more perplexing is the cause of death," said the doctor as Sophie checked her corners for activity. "It appears he was eviscerated when something burst out of him from the inside."

She steeled herself and returned into cover, trying her darndest to ignore the human remains next to her. "Sir," she heard Delta-3 say, "I have visual on the object. Permission to approach."

It was a while before a response came in. "It's the only cover between you and that building," came the reluctant concession. "Permission granted."

Out of the corner of her eye Delta-3 shifted position and approached the alien pod. Her pulse raced as she instinctively raised her rifle and aimed at the pod, her finger poised to fire at the slightest sign of hostility. Delta-3 took cover behind the strange device without incident. "Talk to me soldier," Central said. "What is it?"

"I got no idea what this thing is, but I can confirm it's no satellite."

"Roger. Alright Delta Squad, you're almost to the building. Keep moving." Delta-4 broke cover and dashed to the side of another car, crouching behind it as the other soldiers readied to move on Central's order. "Okay people. Now let's get inside. Delta-1, there's a window in front of you. Let's take a look."

On command, the man moved to the window, swiftly stepping up the elevated platform in front of him. He edged his head around to steal a peek. "In position," he reported. "Looks clear."

"Copy that. Get in there, and get to cover." One rifle butt smash later and Delta-1 was in the bulding. "Delta-2, that door's in our way. Take it down."

"Solid copy," Sophie replied as she broke into a sprint, slowing down just enough near the door to shift posture and raise her leg, kicking in the door with a bang and resuming her original trajectory, skidding to a halt behind a forklift. She took stock of her surroundings, noting the red brick walls of the warehouse she was in, her eyes taking in the various goods stored inside.

Delta-3 moved through the door Sophie had busted open and took cover behind a pile of crates. He steadied himself, then raised his rifle as he peeked around his hiding spot. Sophie peeked in unison. In the distance was an ominously lit circle, the light emanating from a bulb hanging from the ceiling. A figure stood in the circle, arms at his side, but Sophie could still make out the military combat attire adorning his figure.

Alongside the shotgun gripped firmly in his right hand, and the grenade in the other.

Unearthly moans escaped the recon soldier's mouth. "Central, we have eyes on the target," Delta-3 radioed in. "He's armed."

"Copy Delta-3. Ok everyone, get into position nearby, but do not approach. Doctor, see if you can communicate with him. Tell him to drop his weapon."

"I will try," Vahlen replied as Delta-4 broke through a window and took position behind a group of barrels. "Hallo. Koennen Sie mich hoeren?"

Delta-1 shifted cover to a pile of items covered with a sheet, checking his sides to make sure they were secure. Sophie followed his lead and took cover to his right, her eyes still on the soldier who still seemed to be transfixed. "Wir sind hier um ihnen zu halfen," the doctor said. "Bitte lassen sie Ihre Waffen fallen."

The doctor's words only seemed to trigger more unnatural groans from the man even as Delta-4 repositioned nearby, rifle trained on the soldier. "He appears to be in shock," Vahlen concluded.

"Keep your eyes open," Central intoned, "I don't like the looks of this. Delta-3, move in and disarm him. Carefully."

She watched Delta-3 move up towards the soldier, rifle pointed at him the whole way, yet strangely invoked no response from the latter even up close. Confused, Delta-3 reached up to the hanging light and pushed it gently, tilting the beam toward the soldier's face that was shrouded in darkness. The black receded from the beam, revealing the man's facial features: his lips in a sulk of agony, eye bags that indicated trauma and shock, but most unnerving of all were his completely white eyes. Gone were the black irises, and the eyes seemed to blink purple sporadically.

* * *

"My God," Delta-3 murmured as he began to process the sight before him. This wasn't right at all. Instinct prompted him to peek behind the soldier.

He caught sight of the bulbous-headed alien, its scalp a wrinkly hue of pink, eyes glowing with animosity as its brain seemed to emit a purple stream of energy toward the soldier standing before him.

The last thing he could properly see of the alien was a flick of its hand.

Rounds collided into him, penetrating his body armor and slamming straight through his vital organs. Delta-3 collapsed in a heap. The comm unit in his ear seemed to explode with chatter as he crashed into the floor, pain erupted all across his body rendering him mute with agony. Through his bloodied vision he managed to angle his head up, blood spurting from his mouth, and he caught sight of the German soldier raising his left hand. "Grenade!" someone faraway yelled.

His world turned very bright and dark at the very same time.

* * *

Sophie ducked back into cover, feeling the shrapnel slam into the packages she was hiding behind. Suddenly footsteps could be heard. They seemed to be skittering all around them; one set of them were particularly close. Before she could turn around and fully comprehend what was going on, an ominous fizzing sound reached her ears.

The body of Delta-1 crashed at her feet.

Adrenaline kicked in as she caught sight of his killer: a bulbous headed alien with a device mounted on its wrist, the sides of it glowing an evil green. She sucked in a breath and returned fire, feeling the X-9 kick into her palm and shoulder blade. The alien managed to duck back behind the stack as a hail of bullets sailed by. "He's down!" Delta-4 yelled. "Delta-1 is down!"

More fizzling, somewhere behind her. "Central, we're taking fire from multiple x-rays!" Sophie reported, risking a brief look behind her as she watched Delta-4 duck underneath a hail of green plasma.

"This guy's got me pinned down!" her last surviving companion called out. "Taking heavy fire!"

"Damn it! Delta-2 you're flanked too!" Central transmitted, his voice echoing the urgency of the situation. "Find some better cover!"

Sophie pushed herself off from where she was standing just as plasma connected with the ground she'd been on a split second ago, dashing to the barrels where the German soldier had been standing beside. They'd been partially obliterated, but they'd do. She slid into cover, catching sight of Delta-4's assailant, bringing her rifle up to bear in the same motion and pulling the trigger. Orange lead spewed forth from the barrel, slamming into the creature's bulbous head. The alien collapsed, wrist-mounted weapon bursting into pieces.

"Nice shot," Central's voice chimed in. "Delta-4, you're freed up to move. Get outta there and get into cover."

"There's still one behind us," Sophie yelled out a warning. Her companion responded by sprinting toward the alien's last know position. The creature peeked out of its hiding place just as Delta-4 drew her grenade, pulled the pin and chucked it at the creature's feet. Its squeals signaled to them that it was well and truly dead.

More footsteps. "Look out Delta-4! There's another one coming in behind you—!"

Central finished his warning just as plasma slammed into the back of the woman's head. Galvanized by her death, Sophie broke cover and moved around the alien's position, flanking it from behind. The bulbous head turned to face her just as she brought her rifle to bear and squeezed off a few shots. The first few caught in in its torso, and as it staggered the last round caught its head. As before, the creature fell, weapon exploding as it did.

A heartbeat. Another heartbeat. Hands now beginning to tremble, she scanned her corners for an extended period of time, ignoring the silence hammering away at her ears. Was that movement? Were those footsteps? Were those the shadows of more aliens coming to kill her?

 _No_ , she reasoned, her grip on her rifle tightening. _I'm being paranoid. That was the last of them. That has to be the last of them._

"Central?" she mumbled, forcing herself to focus, ascertaining that the area, at least for the time being, was relatively safe. "I think that's it." She stood up to her full height and took one more look around. "It's over."

* * *

"Roger that, Delta," Central replied off-handedly. "Secure the bodies and head back to the Skyranger for immediate extraction."

He was distracted by the last visible image that Delta-3's body cams had broadcast: the image of the alien that was somehow controlling the German soldier. He gazed at it through the static corrupting the image, right back at its unmoving, unflinching hollow eyes, thoroughly disturbed. They seemed to gaze back at him, staring right past his skin into his mind, his soul.

Bradford pushed aside the thought and turned back to his staff, barking orders for post-operation procedures to be carried out. There were calls to be made and things to be done. He just hoped he could do all of them well, and do all of them in time.

* * *

You awake in a bed, eyelids heavy, body aching for some strange reason. You recognize the symptoms of a sedative; of course you would, you've studied that specific compound extensively for the project—

Oh.

The insignia on the banner to the right of your bed, hanging proudly on the metal wall confirms your suspicions. You'd designed this sequence of events after all; the chosen man or woman would carry a tracker implanted for an unspecified duration so that he or she could be abducted at will, upon project activation. The forceful transition would reduce the likelihood of desertion as it would give the candidate one less chance to run away from potentially crushing responsibility.

The higher-ups had selected you to undergo your own plan. Having been psychologically evaluated, and having undergone an extensive background check, they determined that you, of all their candidates, was the least likely to crack under all their simulations. You'd agreed. And though you'd designed the basic concept for the entire endeavor, the administrators had thus cut you out from the rest of the project for security concerns unless otherwise authorized, afraid of potential leaks of information. An understandable consideration.

Now you were here. The procedure you designed executed upon yourself without a hitch. All you knew about the room was the insignia, and the motto _Vigilo Confido_ above it. Beyond that, from the quarters you stood in to the building beyond, everything around you was alien.

Alien. How ironic. Your very presence in this very chamber only confirms your worst fears that the unthinkable has happened. Earth is under attack.

Some very small part of you wants to panic, yet the rest is in its element; you knew that sometime, this would occur. It might not have been in your lifetime, but it conceivably would've. Your very presence proves that possibility to be accurate. Against the odds, somehow, you feel ready.

You remind yourself that zeal must be tempered with caution and strategy, for the stakes are still very real and very high. You push yourself out of bed, finding yourself already draped in fatigues. You walk over to the metal closet in the room and pull out a uniform, changing into it. You don't bother to look at the way your room is decorated and the amenities built in to accommodate your indefinite stay here; there are far more pressing issues at hand.

You do however decide to check out the terminal on your desk. It is already on. A message is displayed on-screen:

 _ **XENOS PROTOCOL**_ **ACTIVATED**

 **RECEIVE PRELIMINARY MESSAGE:**

 **[Y/N]**

You think you know exactly what it is, but hit "Y" on the keyboard anyway. The message and desktop fade away, replaced with a grainy transmission of a silhouetted figure, a bright light shining at the camera from behind him. If not for the gravity of the situation, you would have smirked right then and there.

"Hello, Commander," the recording plays, and somehow you find yourself wanting to grin. "In light of the recent extraterrestrial incursion, this Council of Nations has gathered to approve the activation of the XCOM project. You have been chosen to lead this initiative; to oversee our first, and last, line of defense."

It hits you right then, and you sober down a little. The spokesman's words echo your current sentiments: "Your actions will have considerable influence on this planet's future. We urge you to keep that in mind as you proceed."

Ready or not, you have a lot of work to do. A lot of innocent people are counting on you.

"Good luck, Commander."


End file.
